


Depraved/Deprived

by Cards_Slash



Series: Arabian Stallions [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Sex Work, Threesome, really just plotless porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from a prompt on the kinkmeme that asked for Altair using a website to request a night with two 'Arabian Stallions'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Depraved/Deprived

**Author's Note:**

> written for [This Prompt](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=11074926#cmt11074926)
> 
> I always did fail at staying anonymous.

The last six months of his failed marriage had been sexless, the full year of official separation had been similarly sexless. The three months before the last six months of his failed marriage had been nearly sexless with the brief exception of a few lackluster after-dark encounters that left him feeling oddly dismissed and worthless and therefore shouldn't have counted. Altair had been living a sexless existence for so long that his body had gone off and decided to change all the rules on him.

Because he'd thought that he was attracted to women (since he married one) and he was pretty sure there was a large portion of his teenage years spent imagining depraved sexual encounters with various women of varying sexual appetites. He was one hundred percent comfortable in his heterosexuality and that might have been why he couldn't understand how he'd found himself staring at sexualfantsies.com page for a set of 'Arabian Stallions' with a persistent hard-on for the ninth night in a row. 

He was straight before he got married. Now he was going through the pictures of these two (oh my God, _brothers_ ) men in every state of undress. His imagination (perfectly well developed as it was) that had never once before ventured outside of the realm of breasts and vagina was now flooding his whole body with hot-flashes like fresh ideas about how fucking awesome it'd be to have not one, but two unbelievably attractive virile men attacking his body from every angle.

"Don't do it," he whispered to himself in the dimness of his (now) empty house. (He'd gotten it in the divorce because she never liked it anyway.) He just kept reminding himself that he was straight, and forcing himself to forget about it. 

He lasted two weeks and half a bottle of something brown that spread warmth throughout his body and sang sweet lullabies to his inhibitions. His body wanted it and his brain had no logical objections to it (except paying for sex, maybe) and fuck-it, he was still young.

\--

The website sent him a sweetly-anonymous sounding reminder that his appointment was set for seven that night. Altair made the mistake of checking it at work and spent the last four hours of his shift messing up everything he did and talking down his dick every time it tried to remind him sex was coming for him.

\--

Altair didn't eat because who could honestly eat in a situation like his? He sat in his living room with the TV on and tried to imagine what the hell was going to happen (and that was all a bad idea) and when that did nothing but make his heart pound and his body ache (specifically his dick) he decided he should probably shower. 

The shower was brief and businesslike: he scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw. He stood in front of the mirror and considered his body--he wasn't bad looking. His muscles were tight and his body long and lean. Nobody had ever said he was repulsive, but nobody had ever exactly fainted at the sight of him either. 

Then there was the matter of clothes, he stood naked in front of his dresser and closet, looking back and forth between the two and weighing the merits of underwear and the pretense they presented. On any given day he wore them because he was a businessman with no sex life but he wasn't sure he wanted to introduce the nature of his undergarment decisions into this random sexual encounter.

\--

Altair ended up wearing flannel pajama pants, trying to pay attention to the news and trying not to bite his fingernails because he'd given up that habit in grade school. 

The doorbell rang at a prompt seven-o-clock and Altair stared at it for almost a full thirty seconds before he opened it. He tried to imagine something that he could say that would not be either ridiculous or insulting and failed on both accounts. Because there were two ridiculously good looking men on his doorstep looking as out of place as foxes in a hen house. There was no way that his neighbors (if they bothered to look) hadn't taken note of how these two had never-ever been seen here before and started making assumptions.

"Don't faint," one of them said.

"There's a ten minute window for you to change your mind," the other said. The two of them thankfully stepped inside his house (away from prying neighbor eyes) and the slightly-taller one helpfully closed the door after Altair took a step back and left it hanging open. "I'm Malik," the older (taller) one said.

"I'm Kadar," the other said, "nice house." He was actually looking at it too, not just saying that blankly the way Altair (kind of) assumed he would. Kadar looked completely normal in a zip-up jacket and a pair of jeans that were not immediately provocative. 

His brother was wearing black--black jacket, black pants, black shoes--and looking at him with the sort of concern that you looked at someone who was having a heart attack with. He cleared his throat in a way that was familiar-and-businesslike before he pulled a folded up set of papers out of his pocket. “So, just to get this bit out of the way. Hopefully you read all the information on the website,” (yes he had, like six times), “but there are several people that know we’re here, and we’re required to check in before we ah-start and then again every two hours or whenever we finish. You’re expected to show us two exits and prove that the phones work. And if you were hoping to get tied up or tie one of us up that’s not a thing we do.”

“Or spanking. Or at least, I don’t like being spanked or spanking but Malik will do it if you ask,” Kadar added. He was still looking at the crown molding in the entry way like it was the most fascinating thing ever. “Was this made by hand? It looks really solid.”

“The former owner was a carpenter,” Altair said. He didn’t even recognize his own voice. He couldn’t begin to imagine why he chose to respond to that. He looked back at Malik and then at the piece of paper in his hand that looked like a checklist. He could be businesslike; he made a living being businesslike. “Um, the front door is here. There is a phone in the living room, right here.” He walked over to the phone on the coffee table next to the couch and pulled it off the receiver and tossed it to Kadar who had left the crown molding after his brother glared at him. 

“It works,” Kadar said.

Altair showed them the back door and accepted the piece of paper that assured him they were not going to steal his stuff as well as their business contact information and the complaint line. Malik told him in the most civil customer service voice he had that he should not call the complaint line about sex-related things but only about missing items. Apparently there was another line for sex-based complaints.

Once all the papers were done with and the business was finished, the three of them were standing at the base of the stairs looking at one another. Malik looked at his brother and Kadar just kept smiling in the same way he had since he walked in. It took a moment of completely silent communication before Kadar’s smile shifted just slightly (almost unnoticeably) and his body went from casual bystander to sexy stalker. 

“So, are we staying?” Kadar asked. He looked too-young up close. His hands when they touched Altair’s arms were hot-as-hell but his smile was what Altair couldn’t look away from. His lips were licked-wet and pouty, like he was going to be offended if he had to go. “You have to say we can stay.”

“You should probably tell us your name too,” Malik said, “you know, once.”

“Altair,” he said. He put his hand on Kadar because fuck-it, he paid for this and felt the heat of his body through the zipped-up jacket he was wearing. Everything under the bulk of it felt solid-as-hell and Altair’s knees were getting weak all at once as his blood left every extremity but his dick. “I do want you to stay. I just, kind of haven’t done this before.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Kadar said so-very-sweetly before his hands slid up Altair’s arms and caught his face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He did, licked his lips before he pressed them against Altair’s and pressed into it with enough pressure that there was no doubting his intent. He was an inch-and-some-change shorter than Altair but he didn’t feel like it when he pressed their bodies together slow-but-sure until his arm was around Altair’s bare back and his tongue was in his mouth. Altair wrapped both arms around him catching his fists in the soft jacket and hanging on for dear life. “I’m keeping you,” Kadar mumbled when he pulled back to breath, when his lips were pink and the taste of his breath mints were a sweetly-cool feeling in Altair’s mouth.

“Surprise, you don’t share well,” Malik said. He had stripped out of his jacket and his shirt, left his shoes politely by the door and was balling his socks up. But he was close enough to turn Kadar’s face around to face him, close enough to press their mouths almost together, almost touching and oh-my-God. Malik was looking right at him and Kadar was grinning around the not-kiss as he let go of Altair and set to stripping off his jacket. “Do you have a bed?” Malik asked.

Yeah. Yeah he did. He was going to say as much but Malik shoved him up against the staircase wall, nearly tripping him as he tried to go up the first stair backward. He was pinned against smooth-cold-painted plaster with Malik’s half-naked body pressed full against his and the insistent pressure of his mouth on his. He wasn’t sweet-like-candy breath mints the way Kadar was but sharper and harder. He pushed one of Altair’s hands against the wall over his head and dropped his other hand down to grip his waist for the briefest of moments before it slid lower to grab his ass and drag his hips forward to grind against Malik’s body. 

“Oh shit,” he bit out and Malik let him take a moment to breath before he was pressing back into the kiss, one hand kneading his ass and the other running down his arm, over his elbow, down to his shoulder and chest.

Altair put both of his arms over Malik’s shoulders, pulled him to show he could and bit back into the kiss because he didn’t like being pushed around. He pushed his tongue into Malik’s mouth and felt the half-chuckle of surprise it got him. The dirty thrill of it, of the hard body pressed to his, of the shameless way his hips were grinding forward against Malik’s body, was nothing at all compared to the sharp stab of pleasure when Malik slapped both of his hands on Altair’s ass-at-the-same time and dragged him up off the floor. His back was against the wall and his legs were being wrapped around Malik’s waist, and the whole thing was so brilliantly surreal that he couldn’t even fight back the moan. 

“Now who’s not sharing,” Kadar mumbled from the side. He was shirtless too, leaning against his brother’s arm with one hand on Altair’s face to turn him into another sweet-mint-kiss. 

\--

They made the graceless transition from staircase to upstairs, through the hallway back to the master bedroom, to the bed that he never bothered to make anymore. Whatever lack of self-consciousness he’d found at the bottom of the stairs was lost again in his own bedroom when he felt completely out-matched. 

They were masters of their own bodies, clearly aware of the effect they had on people and more than capable of reducing a person to a wordless puddle of sexual satiation and Altair felt like he was seventeen again: embarrassed and damp and mumbling apologies to his girlfriend. 

They took a moment to look around the room and then Kadar was back, pushing him until he was sitting on the chest at the foot of the bed and climbing easily into his lap. Kadar's jeans were nothing but sinful with the top button undone and his gloriously tanned skin all exposed. His body wasn't as tight and muscled as his brother, still soft around his waist and his skin was slick with a fine sheen of sweat as he kissed Altair again. His hands were sure but respectful, starting on his shoulders and slipping down his arms. It felt like he was looking for braille letters on Altair’s skin and finding none he settled for rubbing the palms of his hands against his chest until his nipples were hard and Altair had to pull away from his mouth to get a fucking-breath-of-air. 

Kadar looked positively gleeful at his find, shifting back so his knees fell off the edge of the chest, both hands braced against the rise of the mattress behind Altair’s back as he kissed his way down from Altair’s throat to his chest. His tongue was soft-and-wet-and-strange against his right nipple and his fingers were warm-and-rough against his left. Altair hadn’t taken the time to care about his nipples before and-what-a-shame because his spine melted and his body all but collapsed and Kadar made a sound in his throat like a whimper as he followed him down. He pulled off the right nipple with a noisy smack and moved to the other to lick a circle around it. 

Kadar was shifting over him, moving out from between his legs to the side, mouth still busy at his chest while hands tugged at his pants. Altair lifted his head, got his elbow back under him and stared down his own body to find Malik on his knees between his legs. (Oh-fucking-God.) His pants were thrown somewhere to the side once they were off and Malik was right between his legs, resting his elbows over Altair’s thighs. His eyes were dark-dark-brown when Malik stared right at him and didn’t look away as his hand broad-and-rough-and-sure wrapped around his dick and gave a half-hearted kind of loose-fisted stroke. 

Altair couldn’t breath, and Kadar was lifting himself up to lean against him, bare hot skin and rough blue jeans as he stared down at his own fucking brother. Malik used both of his hands to stroke him, one-after-the-other until it was maddening with how it was-so-much but not-enough and his stupid half-smiling mouth looked so fucking wet and so fucking _capable_. “You have to tell him to do it,” Kadar whispered against his face, fingers still plucking at his nipple, “he’s so good at it, he’s got such a _wicked_ tongue.” 

“Take your pants off,” Altair said when he dragged his eyes away from Malik's stare. He wasn't even sure he was talking to Kadar, just knew he was looking for skin and running into jeans. Kadar smiled at him as he moved away and wiggled out of his jeans and left them where they were. He didn’t crawl back up the way Altair thought he would but dropped down to his knees by his brother, leaned against his side to get a hand on Altair’s dick so they were fist-over-fist jerking him off with both of their red-lipped-whore-mouths hanging open. 

“Do it,” Altair said. His hips were jerking up into their hands and his body felt tight-as-a-bowstring, he was going to lose his fucking mind. He sat up enough to get his hand on Kadar’s head and dragged him forward until his mouth was sliding over his dick with an eager-wet lick of tongue. Malik shifted to give him the space and pushed Altair’s legs open wider so they’d both fit. “Fuck,” Altair breathed. His fingers were curved around the back of Kadar’s head, through his short dark hair so he could feel the motion of his jaw as he sucked and the gentle up-down as he worked at nothing but the tip of Altair’s dick above his brother’s fucking fist. “You too,” Altair said. 

Malik licked his lips and elbowed his brother in the chest to get him to pull off—stared right at Altair as he ran his tongue up the bottom of his dick and traced a wet circle around the tip of it before he closed his mouth around him and went down-oh-fuck-and

Kadar dropped one of his hands down to his own dick, stroking it in time with Malik’s mouth moving on Altair and that was a visual that was going to be burned into his mind until the day he died because Kadar was just staring at his brother’s hollowed-out cheeks and the high spots of red on his face. He was jerking off to his brother sucking dick before he nudged him with his elbow to get another turn.

“You too,” Altair said in desperation. He absolutely couldn’t come before they were all naked and Malik was still wearing his dark-black pants. “Take your pa—oh God—pants off.” Kadar pushed his leg up toward his chest, one hand kneading at it as he let Altair’s dick fall out of his mouth and land sticky-and-wet against his belly. His warm-wet mouth was working at his balls as his strangely slick thumb was rubbing at the space just behind them and it was so-fucking-much-more than Altair’s stupid imagination had ever come up with. 

Malik stood to the side, stripping out of his pants, dropping them to the side and taking a moment to watch his brother. Altair leaned forward enough to catch his hand and pull him closer, liked the way Malik made being pulled awkwardly onto a bulky piece of furniture over two sweaty bodies look effortless. Liked the way his body felt—naked and hard and hot—and the way his hand caught Altair’s jaw and turned his face so Malik could kiss him the way he wanted. 

Kadar moved back up to suck his dick again, settled into a lazy rhythm of hand and mouth that made it hard to breathe. Altair had an arm around Malik’s back and one hand on Kadar’s head and no brain cells left in his fucking body. Everything was losing focus, everything stopped making sense, he couldn’t breathe but he didn’t want to stop kissing Malik and his hips were thrusting up into Kadar’s mouth in the sort of mindless abuse you’d never inflict on your wife. And fucking Kadar was moaning happily as his mouth was fucked and slurping on his dick like it was the best fucking treat.

“God, I—I—” Altair’s eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched and he was coming so hard the world swam in-and-out of focus.

\--

“You broke him,” Malik said. 

Kadar crawled up onto he bed with his face smeared with spit and come, his bright grin turned filthy red with swollen lips. He kissed Altair on his slack mouth and said, “you looked like you needed that.” He kissed his neck and his collarbone and the center of his chest, working his way back down to his still-raw feeling nipples. 

“Is this like a thing for you?” Altair asked. He was rubbing nonsense circles on Kadar’s back. 

“Seems like it’s a thing for you,” Kadar mumbled back. “I didn’t break him, Malik. I was just warming him up for you.” He moved back up to kiss Altair on the mouth—tasted like dick and come. “Isn’t that right?” 

“I feel very warm,” Altair said agreeably. He pushed himself up off the mattress and crawled over Kadar—kissed him hard (the way Malik kissed) and enjoyed the hiss of shock that he got for it. His hands pulled Kadar’s legs open to get space to lay against him. Altair liked the way their bodies felt—both flat as they were—as they rubbed together, liked the heat of Kadar, liked the way his thighs felt against the sides of his body. 

“God, you’re hot,” Kadar mumbled to him. “I loved sucking your dick. That’s not just something I say.” His hands were getting tighter on Altair, fingers digging into his ass to pull him close enough to grind his dick up against him. “You’re so tight everywhere.”

“Yeah?” Altair said. 

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re a good fuck, I bet you’re a beast.” He pulled him down to kiss him again, all hungry and needy as his legs wrapped around Altair’s waist and held him in place. His thighs tightened and his heels dug in as he rocked up against him. “Suck my dick,” Kadar said with a needy pant, and a shiver running through his whole body. He was already wiggling up when he said it, trying to kiss Altair and move higher on the bed at the same time, managing to do nothing but half-sit up and whine in frustration. 

Altair was going to tell him how he’d never done anything of the sort, how he really hadn’t ever even thought about it. (He remembered somewhere on the website about how nobody involved in these sort of things had to do what they weren’t comfortable with.) But Malik’s arms were around his back, pulling him up to sit on his knees. He was leaning in across Altair’s back to kiss him, one hand going straight down his body to his still-hard dick to stroke it. It was too-damn much so close to an orgasm and Altair grabbed his wrist to pull him off. Malik didn’t let go but he stopped moving, just kept a loose fist around him as he ground his dick against Altair’s ass in a way that wasn’t exactly _asking_ but _informing_ him of future events. 

This, he’d thought of, somewhere in the deluge of his imagination’s gay-porn-inspired image dumping, he’d imagined being fucked. He’d thought about it intensely in the shower and when he couldn’t sleep at night. He’d even bothered to try it out with his own fingers and thought it wasn’t good-or-bad precisely. But the way Malik pressed against his back and fit against him, the insistent press of his dick between the cheeks of his ass—

“He’s right,” Malik said against his ear. His other hand was on the inside of Altair’s thigh pulling his legs open wider so he could rut against him that much easier. “You are really fucking hot. Why the hell did you even need us?” His sneaky fingers were rubbing at his hole without trying to push in and Altair tightened his grip on Malik’s wrist until the bastard smiled against the space behind his ear and started jerking him off again.

“Oh fuck,” Altair mumbled, head tipped back against Malik. “Fuck me,” he said. “I want you to.”

Malik kissed him again before he pulled back and shoved him forward onto his hands and knees. Kadar was there in a lazy sprawl against the headboard with one of his hands idly around his dick and the other rubbing at one of his nipples. Altair crawled the scant-short space between where he landed and where he could get his mouth on Kadar’s dick. It wasn’t like rocket science, and he had always been good at learning new things. He licked across Kadar’s knuckles, trailing up to the blushing-red skin of his dick, up to where the tip was already-wet. 

“Look at your fucking mouth,” Kadar said, “look at your fucking lips.” He pressed his thumb against Altair’s lower lip and the sound he made was the filthiest sort of praise. “Just the tip,” he said, “put your mouth around it.” He groaned when Altair put his lips around him, tightened his grip and then relaxed it. Altair sucked at it, for experiment’s sake and pressed his tongue against him because sometimes-he-liked that. “Yeah,” Kadar mumbled so darkly it was almost animal-like. 

Malik was moving behind him again, one hand pressed against his lower back and the other spreading him open. Altair flushed so red his face felt like it was on fire and Kadar made a sound between a coo and a groan but pushed his dick farther into Altair’s mouth anyway. Malik’s other hand slid down to spread him even farther and Altair almost pulled off Kadar’s dick to tell never-mind, really because—and then there was a hot-wet-tongue at his asshole and the scratch of a stubble-cheek-and chin brushing at his skin.

“Fuck!” Altair shouted. He meant it to be shock but his body folded forward when Malik pressed his tongue insistently at the ring of muscle. It wasn’t-really-anything but gross and Malik moaned as he lapped at his ass and tried to tongue-fuck him and Kadar’s breathing was getting all wet and deep and heavy as he started jerking off again. 

“Suck my dick,” Kadar said again. Kadar pulled him back into place and Altair opened his mouth after the blunt end of his dick ran across his cheek with a sticky-wet smear. 

Altair's thighs were shaking when Malik pulled back and he felt worked over-already so when the slippery wet fingers pressed against his ass he was nothing but putty and rubbed his face against Kadar’s thigh while he mumbled some futile prayer to whatever deity looked after people in these sorts of situations. 

“Fuck,” Kadar mumbled, “look at you—he’s barely got his fingers in you and you’re fucking losing it. Just imagine what his dick is going to feel like when it gets in you.” He was wiggling lower now, pulling Altair up to kiss him again, to nip-and-suck at his neck. “You’re going to look so fucking hot stuffed full of his dick.” Kadar was all restless energy, one hand down to stroke Altair’s dick and the other hanging onto his neck to keep him in place to kiss. He was wiggling on the bed beneath Altair, thighs spread just so he fit and hips rocking up trying to rub against him and missing. 

Malik was two fingers deep in his ass, pumping easily-slickly in-and-out, pressed all along his back with hot-pants of breath washing along his shoulders. “Roll over,” he said. Altair didn’t obey so much as melt to the bed and allow himself to pushed flat on his back. Kadar was moving, leaning back against the headboard again and hooking his hands under Altair’s arms to pull him up against his body. They were both soaked in sweat and too-damn hot. Kadar’s hands caught the insides of his knees and pulled his legs up and out—there went that blush again. 

Kadar brought his own knees up and let Altair’s legs rest across them so he was wide-fucking open. Malik crawled right into place between his sprawled thighs. He was soaked with sweat, his dark hair flattened to his head and his shoulders gone pink from effort. His dick was slick-and-condom shiny as Altair stared down at it. 

“You should watch,” Kadar said against his shoulder. He was staring down between his spread open thighs too, tongue against his lips as Malik pressed the blunt-fat head of his dick against Altair’s barely-stretched hole. “You’re so fucking hot,” Kadar mumbled again. His hand was on Altair’s dick and another on his thigh, stroking the jumping, nervous muscle there. 

Malik was staring down, scooting closer and pushing forward. 

All three of them groaned when his body opened up enough to let Malik push in and the tight-sting of it was nothing at all compared to the greedy tightness of Kadar’s fist on his dick or the white-clench of Malik’s teeth as he hissed out a curse. Altair felt powerful in a way he hadn’t in too-fucking-long. Malik was sinking into his body and Kadar was rubbing his dick up against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Kadar said again, “God, look at you.”

Malik kissed him when he was balls-deep in his ass, pulled him up enough to kiss him, to push his tongue into Altair’s mouth the way his dick was in his ass. He was relentless with it, exhausting and exhilarating. Altair pulled at his hair and his back and slid down to grab his ass to hold him there, head falling back as his body starting shivering. 

It was too-fucking-much.

Malik kissed his chest and Kadar kept working an insistent hand at his dick and Altair pulled his legs up so his feet were against Kadar’s knees. Oh-and-look at the fuck-brothers shock when he did that, like it didn’t occur to them that he could. Altair was flexible like a rubber band and he grinned at Malik’s shocked face. 

“No fair,” Kadar mumbled, “you’ve been holding out on us.”

“Fuck me,” Altair said. Because he was _powerful_. Malik looked him right in the face as he pulled out and thrust back in, shifting on his knees until he found the angle he wanted, the one that made Altair shout in surprise every-fucking-time because he’d thought-about-heard-about prostate stimulation but it always seemed fucking lackluster in practice. 

He was nothing but putty, laid out across Kadar and held in place by the strength of his arms as Malik fucked into his body. There were hands on his hips and hands on his chest and a hand on his dick and a mouth on his throat and someone was mumbling dirty-little secrets in Arabic like they thought Altair wouldn’t understand. (Oh-hell right-now-he-didn't understand-a-fucking-thing.) 

“Leave some for me,” Kadar complained when he stopped kissing Altair’s neck. Malik grunted something that wasn’t much of a response and fucked into Altair one more time before he went still. It-wasn’t-enough and Altair was shifting around, rocking back against the insistent pressure of Malik’s dick against his prostate and the orgasm that was slow-building in his gut. 

“Please,” he mumbled, “shit—ple—I’m almost.” His hand dropped to his dick to speed up the fist that had been slowly jerking him off. Kadar was moving behind him, sitting up higher and dragging Altair off Malik’s dick. Malik was all but useless, nothing more than something to lean against when Kadar pushed him forward. There was the desperate sound of a condom wrapper being opened and another curse as Kadar fumbled around behind him. 

Altair turned around to see Kadar rubbing lube down his dick with his tongue between his teeth. “I don’t think you can do better than your big brother,” he said. He felt loose and liquid, and tight and hot all at once. Malik’s grin against his throat made him laugh even as Kadar lifted him up and pulled him down on his dick. “Oh hell,” he mumbled.

Malik kissed him as Kadar rearranged him so he was on his knees and then started fucking up into his body. Altair put his arm around Malik’s shoulders to steady himself, pressed one of his sticky-filthy hands against Malik’s sweaty-face and kissed him back all sloppy-and-stupid. It was Malik’s fist on his dick when he came again like being slapped—so suddenly he didn’t have enough presence of mind to warn anyone. His body clenched down so tight it made Kadar curse at him. 

Both of Malik’s arms went around him and Altair hugged him back, pressed his face against him and bit back whimpers-and-moans as Kadar pumped into with frantic animal need. “You should call me again,” Malik whispered into his ear (in Arabic), “I’d come back for you.” Then he was moving back as Kadar called out something that didn’t sound like words and pulled Altair down hard as he fucked up one last time and came.

\--

Altair waited a few weeks because his whole body had been too fucked-out, sore and tired to contemplate anything approaching ‘physical labor’ for days and days after Kadar and Malik destroyed what remained of his heterosexuality. 

And because whatever Malik had whispered in his ear could have been a fever dream.

And because the man had taken the precaution of using a language that he may or may not have known Altair spoke. The strangeness of his name aside, Altair didn’t look very much like he should have been able to speak the language. And his grandmother had changed his last name when he was five because she adopted him and saw no reason to keep his father’s name after she did so. 

And maybe he delayed a bit because he didn’t want to be some cliché. Maybe because he was scared. 

He put in his order for one but not both of the brothers and sent another silent prayer to whatever sex-based deity looked after him that he hadn’t just fallen prey to the world’s best customer retention tactic.

\--

Malik showed up at six forty-five, not seven. He knocked just as politely and stepped inside his house with all the same professionalism. He was wearing all black the way he had before. The only thing that was different was the nervous twitch of his left hand as he stood in front of the door. “Kadar and I have a bet going that you actually speak Arabic,” he said _in Arabic_.

“I do, actually.” Altair answered, “my father’s family doesn’t speak very good English and my grandmother insisted that I keep in touch with them.”

Malik nodded his head and then shoved both of his hands in his pockets. “So, I’d really rather you tell me that you don’t want my professional services so I can call and tell them that you’ve declined to see me again.”

“Oh,” Altair said.

“I’d like to take you out on a date, though.” Malik smiled at him in a way that looked nothing at all like the cocky smile he’d had the last time he stood in Altair’s doorway. He wasn't effortlessly sexual this time but nervously hopeful. “Before you decide you should know that fucking people for money is kind of my job.”

“Is it your long-term job?” Altair asked.

“Well no,” Malik said. “Eventually I’m going to open a book store but I’ve got student loans and rent and saving up enough for a down payment. Fucking people is surprisingly lucrative. So it’s my short term plan but it’s still my job and I feel like you should know that I’m not offering to quit my job. So if you’re okay with my job and would like to, I’d like to take you out. If you think I’m a worthless slut I’d rather fuck you for money and leave.”

“You can’t be worthless,” Altair said. “Having paid for your services once before I know for a fact that you must have some kind of worth.” He meant it as a joke but Malik just gave him a level glare that informed him he wasn’t funny. “Why me?”

Malik snorted at that. “There’s no reason to expect you to believe that I don’t actually find most people I have sex with hot. You’re hot, you have good books and I almost never get to talk dirty in Arabic and have someone understand it. I need an answer pretty quickly.” He looked at his watch.

“Can we still have sex if we go on a date?” Altair asked.

“I’m pretty sure that no matter what you say you’re going to get fucked again. I’d like to point out that sex with me outside contractual restraints is an entirely different experience.” He grinned when he said it, like he knew that he’d gotten what he wanted and didn’t even wait for Altair to nod his head before he was calling the service to tell them he’d been refused at the door. 

“Wait,” Altair said, “who won the bet, you or your brother?”

“I did. Kadar bet that you didn’t know Arabic, you just really liked getting dicked and I said you knew it and were hot for me. He’s at home pouting about how you didn't ask for him too.” Malik slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I don't care because I won. Now go get dressed, I’m starving.”


End file.
